


At the edge of our known world

by Ruuuka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuuka/pseuds/Ruuuka
Summary: There's a dog owner Thorki AU for ya. More a prompt than actual plot, really.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	At the edge of our known world

Loki moved back from the big city when his mother got worse. He’d leave again when ( _if_ ) he had the opportunity later. For now, he’d do what both his brothers shrugged off easily: he was the one without family, or anything to do in particular, for that matter, aside from earning his daily meals. Plus there was a chance it was his fault. Her cervical cancer. There had been complications around the pregnancy and his birth, and shortly after, she had been diagnosed.

Although this is where he’d grown up, the place was void of anyone he’d have greeted with a smile of familiarity; except some childhood drinking mates probably still dwelling in The Basement Boozer that he’d despised from the beginning. He was more inclined to spend his upcoming weeks (not years on any account) suffocating from his mother’s sole company than seeking them out and having them leech on his non-existent wealth while fully aware of his situation. Not that he felt any higher from this choice; he simply kept true to his personality and did whatever he wanted.

He walked his mother’s dog, a moderately furred beast ankle-high, quite meek for her size. Or, more like it, her anger fits were seen as cute monkeying around in humans’ eyes. Only those closest to her knew of her consuming desire to drown the world in her acidic spit. Loki could relate to her at this aspect. So they strode along the stained concrete in silent agreement.

It got busier near the corner market, but he skilfully navigated the Loki-on-a-leash combo even among the least mindful passers-by. Until his look got trapped in a misplaced pool of summer sky, and his arm was almost jerked out of its socket by a strong tug, his ears alerted by familiar, high-pitched growling.

Back on the ground, he quickly identified the problem: one bit of the big _Nothing Good_ that ever chose to befall him. The oncoming fellow human had a pet as well, about four and a half times mightier, and it seemed to take a challenge seriously. In a single blink, the two animals were circling around each other in quiet tension, their fangs snatching at thin air in warning, for now. The traditional war dance did peculiar things with the two leashes.

“No! Vicious!” Loki hissed upon grasping the urgency, and crouching, he attempted to rescue his measly canine from the circle without losing his arm or head in the process.

The warmest, deepest chuckle resonated from the Heavens above.

“Vicious?” repeated the man stuck in the situation with him. “Is that your dog’s name?”

“Not mine,” Loki hurried to point out, meanwhile holding onto the leash like a life depended on it. Hopefully, it didn’t.

A few people stopped at a distance to observe the scene, but most of them just sidestepped and proceeded right away. The larger beast, wearing the skin of a pit bull but apparently having the heart of a retriever, kept spinning madly to keep the swift fur ball under check, their joint effort twisting the two leashes more and more inseparably. Loki suppressed a groan of discomfort at the sight.

The man bent into his vision, the summersky-blue eyes focused on the canine pair, hands attempting to stop the fire-breather without inflicting pain. Those were arms that could have lifted a house, Loki was sure as he observed the muscles’ play under the not even so tight shirt. The stranger must have kept his voice low while he uttered his short commands because when he raised it, it could crumble entire blocks. His hair was in a loose bun, some locks fell into his face, and its colour was like stained gold halfway towards melting. And then, he was one of the few on this planet who had the air of a warm smile around them even while they sported a strict frown. There was a teacher like that in Loki’s high school, and oh, how it used to enrichen his teenage fantasies-

“This is Donny,” said the man slapping the larger dog’s backside playfully. “But only his friends can call him that; he answers to Sir Donald for burglars or the vet. Or the neighbours. Some relatives.”

“Well, it’s an honour to know you, Sir Donald,” Loki nodded, breaking up the list while he attempted to take hold of his own agile beast.

“Donny,” the man corrected looking up at him for the moment, and Loki inexplicably blushed at it. He found that the new acquaintance felt way less threatening with a name attached.

Due to the joint effort of the scrawny and the magical hands, the cycle of distrust got reversed, although not slowed. A few moments later, the cluster fell into two. They all exhaled simultaneously at the success; onlookers went on their ways, and traffic on the sidewalk resumed once again. For the hell of it, Loki stole one last good look at the beautiful stranger, possibly a former god. He’d been a nobody all his life, he was good at doing things unnoticed.

In his effort, he nearly missed that those torturously cushioned lips were moving.

“He deserves a break from this urban hell once in a while, so we take all our holidays to the country. How about yours?”

“I don’t travel,” Loki answered evasively, and he stuffed his free hand into his pocket.

“Well then, same time tomorrow?”

A long, soundless breath helped him think it through, remind himself it was but an empty promise of courtesy. No need for denial, or demanding a phone number.

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll take it. We’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” the man said and led his beast away while Vicious was already doing her business mid-pavement.

Loki bit his lips to prevent yelling his giddy goodbye after the pair like some clingy damsel, and he crouched to collect the goods in a plastic bag, his head bent down to avoid strangers’ looks on him. He could tell that the world had never before seen a young man smile this widely at his Yorkie’s excrement. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an identical canine accident witnessed. Neither the dogs nor the owners were having much of a conversation while I passed by, but I’m sure the latter have abandoned their girlfriends/mothers by now for the steamy romance burning in their eyes.


End file.
